Velvet Fever
by Peppa Jack
Summary: She had turned her down once before, the day of the socialist festival, the day she realized that she loved Flo. But Kitty Butler is back for another shot, and this time Nan can hardly ignore the old passions stirring once again. Tipping the Velvet fanfic


_She had turned her down once before, the day of the socialist festival, the day she realized that she truly did love Flo. But Kitty Butler is back for another shot, and this time Nan can hardly ignore the old passions stirring once again. _

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**Velvet Fever**

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Being the sweetheart of a socialist did not get easier after the rally.

Without a doubt, the gathering in Victoria Park that day had been a huge success. All of East London, it seemed, had crowded in and around the various tents and speaking halls. Certainly well beyond the five thousand that Florence had set her hopes on. In the days following, there had been a sharp increase in union membership in the area, and several new recruits had come to our door, eager to join the cause.

But with the success of the rally came an even greater pressure to work harder than ever. Now there were even more speeches to prepare, more events to coordinate, more mountains of paperwork. It seemed to me that Florence did not care if she spent half the night managing lists and letters and pamphlets, so long as she could keep herself awake to do it. She continued to overload herself with more duties than she could reasonably handle – and of course, I was there to share some of the load.

"You know, those pretty red curls of yours are going to prematurely grey if you insist on carrying on like this," I told her one night as we sat at the kitchen table, hunched over scattered papers and coffee. Ralph had already gone upstairs to bed. The lights in the house had all been extinguished apart from the two we kept going in the kitchen. In the soft, yellowish glow, the tired woman across the table looked ten years older. I suddenly had vision of her in her early forties, with a head of grey already and with wrinkles where there ought not be any yet.

Florence glanced up from the letter in her hand and frowned at my scrutinizing gaze. "If you're tired, go on up to bed," she chided, swiftly reverting her attention back to her work. I had already pushed my chair from the table, but continued to watch her squint at the piece of paper to make out the scribbled penmanship.

"And leave you to fall asleep with the lamps still burning? Not likely." I slid from my seat and moved behind her chair, leaning down to tuck my chin in the crook of her neck. My arms draped themselves lazily about her middle. "Come to bed with me," I murmured, pleased to feel her relax a little into my embrace. "We're both tired. The letters can wait until tomorrow."

"They really can't. The speakers for the Women's Suffrage Assembly will be arriving next week and if we're to book the Athenaeum Hall in time.."

Her voice trailed as I pressed my lips to her throat, the motion having gently nudged her gaze upwards, away from the table. "They can wait," I repeated, my voice a little huskier now, breath warm against her skin. My fingers began to curl teasingly just beneath the swell of her chest.

"Nance," she pleaded faintly, "Just let me...Mmm, just let me finish this." But peering up, I could see Flo's eyes drifting closed, her expression completely contradicting her protests. At last though, her back stiffened and she leaned forward to pull herself out of my embrace.

"I'll just finish this last one and then be up to bed. Take care not to wake Cyril when you go upstairs. He overslept earlier today and Ralph had a rough time putting him down."

I stared down at her as she leaned over the paper in her hand again. My hands still limply held her waist, but now I drew them up to the back of the chair. This was starting to become our routine. Flo would finish with whatever she promised was her last task for the night and then join me in our narrow bed beside Cyril's crib. Both of us would be too tired or too irritable to do anything but drift to sleep. We had begun to satisfy ourselves with quick kisses in the morning and short, breathy encounters during the day, in between rushing from one errand to the next. It felt like an eternity since I had last had her all to myself.

The first few days after the Victoria Park rally had been heavenly. Flo and I had returned to the house that night giddy and inseparable, acting like we had fallen in love all over again. After Ralph had put Cyril to bed and left the house (to call on Mrs Costello, I think) Flo had pulled me to floor beside the fireplace and made me moan her name over and over until, too exhausted to drag ourselves upstairs, we had both fallen asleep right there in the parlor. I remember it as one of my happiest days. At long last, we had torn down the barrier that had been between us. The painful memories of lost love were driven away that day in the park when we had both been struck with fear at the idea of losing each other. Florence and I would not only be content to have the other's comforting embrace, but now we realized we longed for it.

During those first few days, Kitty Butler was all but forgotten…

I straightened from Flo's chair. I had half a mind to grab her shoulders and ask her if she didn't remember those first few days as I did and didn't she hunger for a time like that again and didn't she know how stifled I was beginning to feel day after day, week after week…And then I watched her shuffle a few scraps of paper and reached for her cup, which had long cooled and I felt a sudden stab of guilt. Florence put everything she had into helping those less fortunate than her. She had committed herself to such a noble, impossible endeavor and all the time I could only think of my own unhappiness at the idea of sharing her attention. I suddenly felt very selfish.

"Promise me this one is your last," I mumbled, leaning down to kiss her cheek goodnight. Flo turned to smile up at me and the pang in my chest was doubled. "Goodnight, Nance," she said, reaching to stroke my chin before turning back to her work. "Don't wait up for me."

I lit a candle and left the kitchen, passing through the parlor to get to the stairs. As I moved past the fireplace, the light of the candle flame caught the smooth surface of something on the mantel piece and the glint of light seemed to wink at me. It was the frame of the family photograph. The small, grave-looking picture of Eleanor Marks was still wedged in the corner, and beside it, the crumpled advertisement for Kitty Butler and Nan King. I paused and held the flame still. In the dim light, the smile on Kitty's face appeared sly and more teasing than it should have looked in the daytime. The flicker of the candle seemed to animate her features until I half believed she was laughing.

I took a step towards the mantel. It had not been a conscious decision to leave the shrine of our past loves untouched. We had simply not thought to take the photos down. Somehow, I didn't think Flo would think it necessary to dispose of her picture of Eleanor Marks. Her love could never return to her and the photo had been placed here in memory. But what reason did I have to keep my picture of Kitty? I picked up the photo and held it for a moment. Then I stooped and tossed it into the cold fireplace where it fluttered and dipped until it came to rest on the black pile of soot.

There was no need to keep a reminder of Kitty in the happy home I had made with Florence. I would remember her now and again, of course, as my first love and first heartache. But I did not need to place her beside a photo of the deceased and mourn over her. I was sure Florence would feel some pleasure at seeing the photo gone. I knew she would never have asked me to take it down but she would smile and glance at me perhaps, when she noticed its absence.

I turned towards the stairs. But just as I reached for the banister, Kitty's face flashed clearly in my mind. For an instant, I saw her with her chocolate brown curls and freckled cheeks, grinning at me fondly, giving a wink. I thought to myself, what if I were to forget that face, only to find that I did not own even a single picture of it to remind me? What if there came a day when I forgot the boyish grin that had once so captivated me those days at the Palace Theatre and could not picture it my mind even if I wanted to? The thought was at once so surprising and so terrible that I gave a sort of soft cry and stumbled back to the fireplace. The candle shook in my hand and I set it haphazardly on the floor to dip my trembling fingertips into the soot, clutching the photo as if it might suddenly shatter. It was as if a dam had burst and all the longing for Kitty had come rushing back. It might as well have been the day I found her wrapped in sheets beside Walter for all the pain I suddenly felt in my chest.

A noise in the kitchen made me start. Flo had heard my cry and called quietly, "Nance? Everything all right? Why haven't you gone to bed yet?" I was filled with a sort of panic at the thought of her finding me clutching the photo of Kitty, my hands blackened with soot, so I quickly, carefully slipped the picture into the front of my jacket and hastily stood just as she appeared at the doorway.

"Something the matter?" Flo asked, giving me a queer look. Her eyes dropped to the candle still sitting on the floor. I knelt jerkily to retrieve it, mumbling something about having stumbled in the dark and when I had got to my feet, Florence was moving towards me. My heart leapt to my throat as she touched my waist, letting her hands glide up to my shoulders. I felt her fingertips ghost over my chest, right over the spot where I had tucked the picture beneath my clothing.

"Come on to bed then," she said softly, shrugging it off. "Just let me put out the lights and I'll come up with you."

As we crept upstairs, keeping our footsteps light so as not to wake Ralph or the baby, I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for the second time that night. Flo lead the way with the candle. Her hand was curled around mine. The candle illuminated the loose strands around her cheeks like a fiery halo around her head. Beneath my jacket, pressed secretly against my shallow breast, the photo felt hotter than a flat-iron.

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**Author's Note:**

Just finished Tipping the Velvet last night…

Ok, am I the only one who felt a little disappointed that Nan ended up with Florence? I mean you gotta love Flo…But Kitty was right there! At the rally! If only she had somehow left Walter and wasn't so damn ashamed of being called a tom arrrrrgrgrgrdfjsgfhjs!

*ahem*

Anyway, this fanfic will basically be a continuation of the story. At the end of the book, I felt like there was still a lot more story to tell, which isn't exactly a bad thing. I guess I'm just not ready to give it up yet, and I'm not ready for Nan to give up Kitty! D:

Please review so I can feel all motivated to continue x] I'd love to hear your opinions of the book too.

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Velvet Fever


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